


Run, Rabbit Run

by Bunnywest



Series: Rabbit verse [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Sex, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Dominance, Established Relationship, Knotting, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Top Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 01:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10911918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Peter loves to hunt. Stiles is his (too willing )prey.Inspired by http://archiveofourown.org/works/10796223





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written anything before, please be kind. Once I saw the gorgeous art it just begged for some back story, so here's my humble offering. Enjoy!

Someplace off to the left, Peter hears a quiet voice whisper “I trust you, Wolfman. You’ve never hurt me yet” – followed by the crackling of branches underfoot as Stiles takes off running  
There’s nothing stealthy about the way he hares off through the undergrowth, because by now Stiiles knows that he can’t hide from Peter’s enhanced senses – all he has going for him is speed, and the best he can hope for is to put some distance between them before his inevitable capture. His heart beats wildly in his chest, not with fear, but with excitement, and in anticipation of how this will play out.

Every time they play he manages to evade capture for a little longer, and every time Peter finally corners him it’s little rougher, a little more desperate. Stiles doesn’t mind. But this? Letting Peter hunt him on the night before a full moon? That’s taking it to a whole new level.

  
And so he runs. He runs like the hounds of hell are after him…which he supposes in a way they are. He runs blindly, gasping for breath, but grinning like a wild thing all the while. Because he loves the chase as much as Peter does, but he loves the capture even more.

He’s worn his oldest clothes tonight, and it turns out to be a wise move when a large hand in the middle of his back pushes him to the ground and a clawed finger hooks him by the collar, ripping his shirt straight off his back. His jeans are next to be sliced off his body. Of course, there are no underwear. He’s laying naked on the ground, in the leaves and dirt, with a werewolf huffing short breaths into the side of his neck as Peter straddles him with a predatory glint in his eye.

  
“That was the longest you’ve lasted in a chase yet, little rabbit” Peter croons in his ear, and Stiles suddenly wonders if he’s thought this all the way through. Because this Peter? All fangs and glowing eyes and delicious intent? It would almost frighten him…almost. He suddenly feels himself hoisted up as Peter lifts him bodily onto his shoulders in one swift move, as if he weighs no more than a child, which he supposes to a werewolf is probably true.

  
As Peter takes off striding across the clearing, claws firmly digging into Stiles’ naked ass, and a thumb slipping into his cleft, he feels himself becoming hard. Peter obviously feels it too, smirking widely as he carries Stiles to the nearby cabin that will host the next stage of this dangerous game.

  
Stiles feels a moment of apprehension when Peter enters the cabin, drops him roughly on the bed, then brackets him under his body, before asking, “ so tell me little rabbit, do you think you’ve earned my knot yet?” with an arched eyebrow that promises nothing but hours of trouble. If he’s lucky.


	2. Cabin Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cabin, though, is different. The cabin is for rough, desperate, primal fucking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....I accidentally wrote porn. And maybe a feel or two snuck in.

Stiles doesn’t know who owns this cabin - he suspect’s it’s one of Peter’s many properties, but when they come here discussing the wolf’s property portfolio is way down the list of things on his mind, and afterwards…well, afterwards is for sleep, and soothing hot baths, and soft words whispered, and assurances that yes, he’s OK, and yes he likes the rough treatment, and no, he won’t have to explain those inexplicable bruises to the Sheriff, it will all be fine Peter, I promise.

  
They’ve been coming here for nearly six months now – it’s separate from their “normal” dating life, where he and Peter go out to the movies, (and get dirty looks from the other patrons for their sarcastic running commentaries ) or to dinner, (where their waitress eyes them with suspicion when Peter lets out a particularly filthy laugh), or where they just make out on the couch like they have all the time in the world, trading slow lazy kisses, touching each other with easy familiarity, Peter pinching Stiles’ perfect ass and getting a slap on the hand for his troubles.

  
They make love, certainly, many times in many, many positions as Stiles likes to say, and it’s good, it’s satisfying and frequent. They know each other’s bodies well by now; Peter is a skilled and considerate lover, and takes great pleasure in showing Stiles all the many different ways they can satisfy each other. Stiles, for his part , is more than willing. He’s incredibly open minded, (Peter is not sure whether that’s a result of dating a werewolf or the cause of dating a werewolf – it’s a chicken and egg thing) and with all the stamina of a young man in his early twenties - which allows him to keep up with Peter’s werewolf enhanced( read nonexistent) refractory period. The only thing Stiles hasn’t done is take Peter’s knot – he’s more than willing but Peter has held back, afraid of losing control and hurting his young partner.

  
The cabin, though, is different. The cabin is for rough, desperate, primal fucking. The hunter and his prey, circling each other until finally Peter pounces, pinning Stiles down before kissing and biting all down the column of pale throat , scraping his stubble over the neck in front of him in a display of dominance and possession. Stiles has grown into those long limbs of his. No longer a gangly teenager, he now sports broad muscular shoulders that narrow to a slim waist and a frankly impressive ass. His long legs are well shaped, with firm, bitable (Peter’s words) calves and thighs, and the whole package is, well, gorgeous. It takes all Peter’s self-control not to sling Stiles’ legs over his shoulders and just take – he know Stiles will be stretched and ready for him, he always is when they run in the woods. And it wouldn’t be the first time he’s done it. But he knows what Stiles wants, and damn him, he must have known that running this close to a full moon would push Peter to breaking point, to where he will finally, finally agree to knotting the younger man.

And so he throws Stiles on the bed, and whispers the words that make his young lover shudder in anticipation -“so tell me little rabbit, do you think you’ve earned my knot yet?” .  
“Oh holy mother of God, Yes Peter!” Stiles breathes out, because this is happening, it’s really happening, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little nervous. Peter has an average cock, nothing record breaking or porn worthy, but big enough, satisfying and thick. But his knot? Stiles has seen that once or twice and damn, that thing is huge. It’s like a grapefruit, firm, round and heavy, and he can’t help but think about how that’s going to feel going in, and imagining the stretch and burn of it. And so he looks into Peter’s eyes, whispers “you caught me, I’m yours” - and drops his legs wide open, giving Peter a perfect view of his pink hole, which is indeed already slicked with lube and stretched with a plug – ready for the taking in every way.

  
Peter snarls as his fangs start to drop and his claws come out, and he surges forward, pushing Stiles’ knees up towards his chest and apart, and then pulling the plug out roughly and throwing it off somewhere, to be dealt with later. He strokes himself roughly, slicking the precome that leaks down his shaft until his hand slides freely, and then positions himself at Stiles’ entrance – before stopping dead, breathing deeply, once, twice, and again, regaining at least enough control to rasp out “Stiles- are you really sure?” Because this might be the cabin, but this is still his Stiles and he would never knowingly harm his boy.

The sharp nod he gets in response must be enough of a reassurance for him, because then he is moving forwards, pushing in, knowing that he doesn’t need to prep Stiles for this because he loves the burn, has told Peter that the bite of pleasure pain drives him wild. He pushes and pushes and pushes without slowing, until he's balls deep and Stiles is panting below him, and then he starts to thrust in earnest and lets his wolf come out to play. In, out, in, out, faster and faster with Stiles whimpering and rocking beneath him, letting out little moans and cries that Peter knows from experience mean he’s doing this right. Stiles is practically folded in half as Peter leans forwards and brackets his body with his arms and drives home, angling his body just so, aiming for Stiles’ prostate and judging from the sounds his prey is making, hitting the mark.

He can feel his climax approaching, and this time, this time he doesn’t hold back. He lets his knot form, feels it starting to grow and slip in and out, stretching the rim taut with each thrust until Stiles is actually whining below him, but he doesn’t let the sounds distract him – Stiles has told him he can have this, he’s not going to second guess, so he keeps pushing the steadily growing knot in and out, in and out, even as it begins to catch and pull on the rim of Stiles’ over stretched asshole, even as he hears Stiles sobbing, even as he hears the rush out of breath and the cries of “OhgodohgodohgodPeteritburns….ohfuck” as finally, finally, his knot is full blown, solid and unyielding, and he rams it home with a triumphant howl as it locks in place and he starts coming and coming and coming and God, he hasn’t felt this in years, had forgotten the feeling of overwhelming pleasure, the thrill of letting go so completely, the euphoria that washes over him as he gives in to his more primal nature.

  
As he slumps forwards over his lover, he comes back to himself a little and oh God, what has he done? Stiles lays beneath him, tear tracks on his face, eyes closed as little hitches of breath that might be sobs escape him. He’s shaking, trembling, and Peter can’t believe he’s done this to the best thing to happen to him in years, what was he thinking? He would run and howl at the moon in despair, but he’s still locked in, still coming, still gently thrusting, his body taking what it needs after too long. So he leans forwards and gently brushes the tears away with soft fingers, soothing noises coming from his mouth.

  
And then Stiles opens his eyes. And grins. And rocks back on the knot. And does it again. “Holy shit, keep going” he rasps out. “I’m so damn close Peter, so close…”

Oh.

OH.

  
Peter realizes that he’s not trembling in fear or pain, but from frustration – Stiles is hard enough to cut glass, his dick is red and straining up against those lovely abs of his, and he keeps rocking, rocking, rocking against the knot, clenching his hole around Peter’s girth, now moaning and gasping with the need to come.  
Peter breathes a gusty sigh of relief, and reaches his hand down to circles Stiles’ shaft. He strokes it roughly the way he knows his boy likes, and after a handful of strokes Stiles lets out a strangled cry of release as he comes suddenly, followed by a sharp cry as his body arches up, pulling on the knot where they are still joined.  
“Easy, little rabbit, keep still” Peter breathes, affection sneaking into his voice, “the knot will go down soon and then we can clean you up, darling.”

  
Stiles peers at him through one partially opened eyelid, and asks “Exactly how soon is soon, Peter? Are we talking hours? Days? Because as awesome as this is, I’m hoping we aren’t stuck like this overnight.”

  
Peter throws his head back and laughs. “Really Stiles? Overnight? I’m flattered you think I have that much stamina sweetheart, but this is reality – ten minutes at most.”

  
And just like that, the guilt is gone, because Stiles said it was awesome, and there’s one thing Peter knows about Stiles – when it comes to their time in the cabin, he never lies.


	3. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, as Stiles lays beneath Peter, waiting for his body to recover and his breathing to return to normal, as he lays there waiting for the knot to go down, as he lays bracketed in the arms of the older man that he thinks he might possibly be in love with, his mind drifts, and he ..wait what? He’s fallen in love. Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help it, I apparently have a lot of feelings about these two OK?

Stiles had always admired Peter’s quick mind and sharp wit, and he’d be lying if he said that his thick neck and rippling chest haven’t always made him want to reach out and touch, and seriously, those shoulders should be illegal. In fact, Stiles’ first clue that he wasn’t as straight as he’d previously thought came courtesy of Peter Hale in a V neck. So when he’d moved back to town after college and found that Peter was still here, and surprisingly sane, it had been easy to fall into the habit of dropping into his bar after work for a drink and some casual flirting, because hey, it was harmless, and Peter was pretty and Stiles was only human OK? (Something about the way Peter looked tending bar with his shirtsleeves rolled up over his thick forearms, the way the muscles flexed, that damned neck of his, though….)

But yeah, flirting. Harmless, honestly…until one night after maybe a few more beers than normal, Stiles may have muttered something about unfairly attractive wolfmen, forgetting that of course Peter would hear him. And suddenly he had found himself fixed with a predatory stare and Peter had given him a sexy smirk, stalked over to him, and whispered loud enough only for his ears “I might be the big bad wolf Stiles, but I think you’re my little rabbit. And one day, I’m going to hunt. You.Down” and oh, didn’t that thought make his heart beat faster and his palms go sweaty?  
And then Peter, the asshole, had walked away like he hadn’t said anything, before turning back and casually asking, “So, where are we going for our first date?” Stiles had gaped at him openmouthed before stammering out “Um, dinner? My place? Tomorrow?” to which Peter had replied “Yes, yes and yes. Looking forwards to it,little rabbit.”

The date was good – really good. Stiles managed to last approximately seven minutes before he caved, leaving the steaks he was cooking and running his hands over Peter’s shoulders and down his back, cupping his ass and muttering “Holy shit, I need to touch you.” Peter had responded in kind with a frankly filthy kiss that ended with Stiles sporting a giant hickey. Things quickly devolved from there, and by the time the smoke alarm went off Stiles was grinding against Peter’s leg and moaning. He almost sobbed when Peter moved away from him, but the older man had only left him to move the charred mess off the stove and turn off the alarm, before returning, throwing Stiles over his shoulder, and carrying him off in the direction of the bedroom.  
Once there, they had proceeded to strip off quickly, and then, slowly, slowly spent the next several hours exploring each other’s bodies.Peter stretched Stiles out slowly and carefully, sliding his length into him only when the young man started to beg. They made love gently at first, giving in to the urge to touch each other all over, and later discovered the benefits of being young and flexible(Stiles), and possessing supernatural strength and the ability to hold an adult male against the wall while nailing them to said wall (Peter). And if Peter noticed how incredibly aroused Stiles became from being manhandled, he didn’t say anything. Not then. 

But as they dated for longer, happily scandalizing the small town with their age difference and highly inappropriate public displays of affection, the fact that Peter was a wolf who loved to hunt, and Stiles clearly enjoyed being chased and caught became glaringly obvious. (They had the dubious honour of being barred from the local outdoor maze for public indecency. Stiles laughed for twenty minutes straight). So it wasn’t any real surprise when one night Peter came to Stiles’ door carrying a bag containing a plug, some lube, and a set of well worn clothes, and sat him down to ask “would you be interested in playing…a game? I’ll be the big bad wolf, and you can be my little rabbit. There’s a place I know near here….”

The first time they played, Peter gave Stiles a head start, caught him in two and a half minutes, and then proceeded to hold him down naked on the forest floor and blow him until he saw stars, before fucking him into the dirt.  
The second time, Stiles blew Peter, and they actually made it into the cabin where Peter fucked and fondled and dominated Stiles for hours, until he screamed and shook and sobbed in pleasure.  
After the third time, Stiles went to the local charity shop and bought a pile of worn, nay, threadbare shirts and pants that would tear oh, so easily. And he started running, every morning, pushing his body, picking up speed, so that by the fourth time they played, maybe Peter had to chase a little harder, work a little more for his prize. And if that resulted in a more desperate, wolfed out trip to the cabin, and a few hand shaped bruises on his hips, and Stiles walking with a slight limp for the next few days, well Stiles certainly wasn’t complaining. And once he had reassured Peter that yes, he really really liked it when his wolf came out to play, it was only a matter of time before the question of knotting came up.

And now, as Stiles lays beneath Peter, waiting for his body to recover and his breathing to return to normal, as he lays there waiting for the knot to go down, as he lays bracketed in the arms of the older man that he thinks he has fallen in love with, his mind drifts, and he ...wait what? He’s fallen in love. Shit. 

Somewhere over the time they’ve been dating, and hunting, and playing, Stiles has gone and fallen completely for the other man, and damn, how is he going to hide this? As if Peter senses his turmoil, he nuzzles at Stiles’ throat, asking “What is it Stiles? You’re miles away”. And all Stiles can do is gaze into those eyes, and feel the body pressed against him, the knot still, still, throbbing inside him, and blurt out “I’m sorry Peter, I didn’t mean to, it was just supposed to be flirting, and then it was dating, and you were all….YOU, and it was hot, and the sex was great, and the hunting and the chasing, well that was amazing, and I didn’t realise that it had gone this far and now…..” he bites back on the words, because he’s already said too much, and takes a deep breath, still gazing at Peter. Peter, who has gone completely still and is looking at Stiles in confusion. 

And damn it to hell, thinks Stiles, he’s ruined it. Because there’s no way Peter, with his muscles and his face and his property portfolio and his bar, wants to be lumbered with a twenty something skinny kid. Peter just wanted prey, someone to be rabbit to his wolf.

They stay like that for what seems like hours, but is possibly only seconds, who can tell, the only way to mark time is by the rhythmic pulse, pulse, pulse of Peter’s knot inside Stiles. One Mississippi, two Mississippi…..and then Peter breaks the silence.

“You know, rabbit, I don’t think you understand something. This” he gestures around them, taking in the cabin, the bed, the ripped and rumpled sheets,…”This is for fun. It’s the thrill of the chase. My wolf and I love it”.  
When he hears that, Stiles feels his heart drop, because it’s what he had suspected confirmed – he’s the…entertainment. 

But then Peter continues on “But this….” And he leans forwards and kisses Stiles, soft and sweet, tenderly carding his fingers through Stiles’ messy bedhead, “This is for real. This is for always. You do know I love you right, sweet boy?” he asks, looking suddenly unsure, and oh, that’s not a look Stiles has ever seen on Peter before and NO, he does not like it, he does not like it at all, Peter should never look this vulnerable, and Stiles has to fix this now, before seeing it breaks his heart completely. So he grasps the back of Peter’s head, kisses him back soundly, and repeats his words from earlier – only this time they don’t mean the same thing, not at all.

“You caught me, I’m yours”.

 

Two weeks later, Stiles finally does get to discuss Peter’s properties.  
Turns out that yes he does own the cabin.  
It’s where they go for their honeymoon the week after that.  
Peter tells Stiles that now he’s caught him, he’s not letting him get away.  
Stiles just grins at him…………..and takes off running.

**Author's Note:**

> OK so now three chapters - I didn't mean to I swear! But I needed back story, and then feelings happened....


End file.
